


More than Skin Deep

by behindskylines (deanlovessammymorethanpie)



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanlovessammymorethanpie/pseuds/behindskylines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan takes to writing his words of love on Brendon's skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More than Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on September 28, 2008 on livejournal under the name himmerethwen (an lj username I used previously).

Brendon startles a little when he feels something waxy gliding across his rib. Ryan is lying next to him, still soft and warm after a lazy afternoon spent in Brendon’s bed. Brendon knows that they’ll have to get up soon, that Spencer and Jon will be coming back from shopping soon, and they have a bus call soon. Everything with them is just too _soon_. He looks down to where Ryan is still curled into his side, a black tube in his hand. “What are you doing?”

Ryan looks up, tube of lipstick poised to finish the last word, and says, something rough in his throat. “Sing me a rainbow.”

Brendon recognizes the words, and knows their meaning, knows their meaning to Ryan, and is extra careful when he dresses before going out into the lounge, even though Jon is screaming at him to hurry up.

*

When Ryan pulls Brendon’s sweaty shirt off of him later that night, the red has smudged beyond recognition, smeared words no longer legible, but they both know what they were. Brendon looks into Ryan’s eyes with an apology before meeting his lips. They don’t have much time before people will start to wonder where they went, and Brendon has been dying to get off for hours, aroused to the point of pain, knowing that he had Ryan’s words on his skin.

*

The next time, Ryan uses a black kohl pencil he had in his back pocket. It was literally minutes before a show, and as Brendon was catching his breath, ragged and in Ryan’s hair, Ryan opened the pencil with a ‘pop’. He squirmed away slightly, and Brendon pulled his hand out of Ryan’s too-tight pants, allowing him to make room between them. Ryan writes something quickly, and Brendon doesn’t have time to read it before there’s a sharp knock on the door. “Two minutes, Ryan.” 

Ryan looks up, like he was being chastised. No one knew that Brendon was here with him, and Ryan doesn’t even give Brendon enough time to look at what he has written, sends him along before him. In the hallway, Brendon turns for a second, sees Ryan approach the mirror with a hand already touching up his makeup, that Brendon didn’t have to balls to touch this close to show time, and lets himself get caught up in the push of _time to play, to the stage, let’s go…._. He hears the bathroom door close behind Ryan, and he follows the group to the wings, quietly.

*

He’s in the bathroom on the bus before he has a chance to look at the blurred black scrawl on his side. He can’t read it backwards in the mirror and gives up after a few minutes of contemplation. He’ll just have to ask Ryan about it later, he thinks, as he looks at the black stain on the inside of his shirt, and wonders how he’ll get it out.

*

“Around here, this is what passes as reality.” Ryan whispers out, slowly fucking himself on Brendon’s dick. They are quiet, Spencer and Jon on the other side of paper-thin-walls, and it takes a second for Brendon to think about anything but how sharp Ryan’s hipbones are under his slick palms.

“What?” He shudders as Ryan rolls his hips, and squeezes his thighs around Brendon’s waist. He won’t last long like this, never does on the times that Ryan asks if he can ride him like this, hot and slightly shy. 

“That’s what I wrote on you last time. It’s from _Lullaby_.” Ryan shares this information like a secret, leaning forward on his elbows to kiss Brendon’s cheek, changing the angle and moaning loudly (or what always feels like loudly in a room that’s quiet beside the subtle squeak of the bed and the slap of slick skin). 

Brendon’s “Oh…” changes meaning as Ryan clings to him, biting his throat, and Brendon comes in Ryan’s ass. They don’t use condoms, knowing that this is something that just the two of them would share, and Ryan’s come splashes across Brendon’s chest. 

*

The next morning, when Brendon is getting ready to jump in the shower and wash the boy sweat and sex off of his skin, he stops. There, in red ink, written backwards so that he can read them, are the words, “No one will ever love you as much as I do. Why isn't love enough?” The last line is bittersweet, and Brendon knows what Ryan meant by it. Why isn’t love enough for them to be true to themselves, and true to their love? He cleans up as carefully as he can, secretly thrilled that Ryan wrote this on him while he slept, on his sex-dirty skin. It takes everything he has to not jerk off to the idea, and wait until later, when it will be better, when it will be Ryan.

*

He follows Ryan into the secluded shadows behind the venue, a good twenty minutes before show time, and sinks to his knees. “Closer.” 

Ryan shuffled closer, a question in his eyes. 

“No, that was the movie…that the line was from, right?”

Eyes going dark, Ryan nodded.

Wrapping his lips around Ryan’s cock, Brendon wastes no time blowing Ryan against the brick wall. They had been teasing each other mercilessly all morning, Brendon lingering fingertips above the wash of red ink under his clothes, and Ryan subtlety licking his lips, or biting his fingers. When Ryan comes hot down his throat, Brendon swallows, and palms himself through his stage pants, desperately keeping himself in check. He wants Ryan’s hand on him more than he wants to come, and he gets that wish as Ryan heaves him up against the rough bricks, and shoves his hand down Brendon’s pants, jerking him off, mumbling words in his ear. 

Ryan still has to fix his makeup after they enter the venue. As careful as they were, Brendon couldn’t help but hold Ryan’s face close as he muttered his _I love you_ ’s in a post-orgasmic haze.

*

When he rolls over the next morning, Brendon finds Ryan still sleeping, peaceful in the early morning, and he traces his fingers down a soft cheek, trying not to wake him. The bus is humming along the road, and they aren’t in a hurry to wake up and go to separate bunks. They’ve managed to convince Jon and Spencer that Brendon has frequent nightmares, and that Ryan needs to stay with him on those nights. It was a flimsy story, and the others had ribbed Brendon about it something terrible for the first few days, but as long as it meant that Brendon could wake up next to Ryan, and just _look_ at him, it was fucking fine with him.

He cocked his head enough to look down at the purple Sharpie on his hip. “I will love you, always.” Ryan had written it late last night or early this morning, giggling at the fact that they only had a purple Sharpie handy. Brendon had laughed with him, and spent the next hour and a half defending his masculinity, and failing. He curled tighter against Ryan, tucked his head under Ryan’s chin, and sighed as he slipped back into sleep.

*

Brendon wasn’t much of a drinker. William Fucking Beckett knew that, but still insisted on shoving drink after drink into his hand. Brendon knew that he was trashed when he approached Ryan and hugged him tight, his mouth sliding to kiss him on the mouth for a split second before he pulled away, muttering “Shit, sorry, Ryan.”

Ryan looked at him for a moment, and disentangled them slightly. “Maybe we should sit you down somewhere?” 

More or less following Ryan in a meandering line, Brendon passed the pool, and let Ryan push him into a chair next to the water. “Don’t move. I’ll be back with some water.” He took a minute to examine the prone figure sprawled out on the patio chair. “And maybe some bread…” He mumbled to himself, walking towards their unknown host’s house. Rummaging quickly through the pantry, he grabbed a dinner roll and some water, and was making his way back to Brendon when he heard a shout from the pool. A shout that sounded like Brendon’s voice. “Shit…” he dropped the roll and stepped out onto the balcony.

Apparently, Beckett had talked Brendon into going skinny-dipping with him, and as Brendon had started to take off his pants, the purple Sharpie came into view. Everyone who could see it started laughing, and Brendon, in his inebriated state, had started to tell everyone the Epic Love Story of Ryan and Brendon.

Brendon shouted at him as he saw him emerge the house. “Ryan! I’ll always love you too!” He threw his arms up in triumph.

Ryan placed his head in his hands, sighing, “Shitshitshit!”

*  
It took approximately three hours for the rest of Fueled By Ramen to find out about Brendon and Ryan. Spencer and Jon are just a little hurt that Brendon and Ryan didn’t tell them personally, but to be honest, they had suspected something for a while. Brendon responds to most of the texts and voicemails the next morning, with the same hung over, “Yeah, we’re together. No, you can’t watch.” Ryan fields most of the questions, and threatens to kill anyone who so much as breathes a word about it to the media, and finally, around noon, turns his phone off completely. When he finally turns it back on, while watching the sunset out of the bus window, there’s a long rambling voicemail from Pete, who sounds indignant that he was apparently the last person to know something (finally), and saying something about, “if there’s a bun in the oven, Trick and I know a doctor that won’t ask too many questions. Get a hold of me, Ross.” 

Brendon calls from the back lounge. “Come watch a movie and cuddle with me, Ryan.” 

Ryan turns off his phone, and throws it into his bunk. Fuck them all. Their love is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! <3


End file.
